


Citation

by Relvetica



Series: Wolves [20]
Category: Fargo (2014)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:49:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1890840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Relvetica/pseuds/Relvetica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrench saw the cop car accelerate to catch up with them in his rear view mirror, but Numbers didn't jump until its top lights flashed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Citation

Wrench saw the cop car accelerate to catch up with them in his rear view mirror, but Numbers didn't jump until its top lights flashed. Wrench glanced down at his speedometer: six miles over. End of the month. Hell.

They were in the middle of nowhere, right between nowhere and nowhere else; he should have guessed that closed weighing station was a speed trap. He sighed and put on his turning signal to pull over.

Numbers grabbed the shoulder of his jacket, something he was under strict orders never to do while Wrench was driving (or with anyone! Don't talk while you're driving! he'd said), but Wrench understood and told him 'calm down' one handed, not looking at him, while he pulled into the shoulder.

Are you crazy? Numbers asked once they were in park.

Calm down, Wrench repeated. Don't say anything. Numbers looked skeptical, and Wrench said, nothing, say nothing. He couldn't remember if he'd shown him 'act' yet, and he didn't really want the cop approaching them to see him waving his fists around anyway, so he just said, you're deaf. Understand? Deaf.

What? Numbers asked, but then he looked past Wrench at the window, and Wrench turned to see the cop tapping on it. He rolled it down and gave the policeman his attention, eyebrows raised.

He looked young and didn't look angry, but his sunglasses hid his eyes. "Can I see your license and registration, please?" he asked.

Wrench waved a hand a little like he was trying to get his attention, and he signed, deaf.

The cop stared at him for a moment, and then his mouth formed the word 'shit.' He stood there stupidly for a moment, looking like he was at a loss -- they were lucky, this guy was obviously a rookie -- and then Wrench raised both his hands, open and empty, pointed to his coat's pocket, and mimed writing something down.

The cop hesitated for a long moment: not _that_ stupid, then. He put his hands on his hips, within easy reach of his gun, and nodded. Wrench pulled a small pad of paper and his pen out and passed them through the window.

The cop scrawled on it briefly and handed it back. "License + registration pls." Wrench nodded and pulled out his wallet, retrieving the crisp driver's license the syndicate had provided, and then leaned over to pull out the papers for the car they'd produced as well. Wrench had never actually had the car registered to him officially; it had been his neighbor's, four houses down, and he'd lusted after it for his entire teenage years. When he saw the FOR SALE $400 sign on it one day, he hadn't hesitated. He hadn't even returned home for his things.

Opening the glove box _was_ risky, since that was where Numbers kept his Glock, but he always had the good sense to put it underneath their actual gloves and the ice scraper, and as the real goal here was to not let the idea of opening the _trunk_ cross the officer's mind, he couldn't act hesitant. He passed the requested items to the cop, who examined both with the care of someone pretty new to traffic stops.

Eventually he nodded and gave them back. He hesitated, and then he nodded again and stepped back from the car, giving them a little good-bye wave. Wrench smiled and nodded back, and he rolled the window back up as the cop retreated back to his car. They were going to have to have the plates changed again after this, he supposed, but that was already pretty routine.

Numbers was staring at him in shocked disbelief when Wrench turned back to put the registration away. Deaf people don't get traffic tickets? he asked, his face indignant.

I wasn't going very fast, Wrench said.

He stopped us, Numbers insisted. No warning or… C-I-T-A-T-I-O-N?

Wrench considered him quietly. If he weren't in a panic over a surprise brush with police, Wrench was fairly sure he'd understand by now, but maybe not. Hearing people, even well-intentioned hearing people -- _especially_ well-intentioned hearing people -- didn't like dragging out interactions with the deaf. It made them feel bad or embarrassed, maybe for themselves or maybe for him. Even when they were literally handed the tools they needed for easy communication, they almost always balked without a hearing interpreter to put them at ease. Wrench didn't appreciate pity, so he had no qualms taking advantage of it.

But Numbers had never shown that kind of reluctance, even before he'd tackled learning sign language on his own. Wrench wasn't sure he even wanted to explain it.

He watched the cop pull out of the shoulder and make a U-turn in the middle of the road to return to the weighing station. There's an old joke about cops, he said.

Tell me, Numbers said.

Wrench nodded. A deaf woman is pulled over for speeding. The cop realizes she's deaf when he tries to talk to her, but he knows some sign language, he thinks. So he tries to ask, can I see your L-I-C-E-N-S-E?

Wrench demonstrated the sign for license: two L hands joined at the thumb to form a rectangle. Numbers nodded.

But his sign language is bad, Wrench continued. He learned from a book or something. So instead of license, he says--

Wrench made the L hands again, but this time he joined them at the thumb and forefinger, making a roundish diamond shape.

Numbers frowned at that, and Wrench waited, watching him trying to connect that shape with something. Numbers' eyes suddenly went wide, and he laughed with visible shock. 

So the woman screamed and drove away fast, Wrench concluded.

Crazy, Numbers said. Deaf people are crazy.

No, Wrench said, and turned the key in the ignition. Hearing people just don't think.


End file.
